


Dr. Winchester Is In

by spectaculacularsammy



Series: Not Unless Sam Says [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Doctor Sam, Doctor/Patient, F/M, Light Nipple Play, Medical Kink, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Role Playing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 15:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7646050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectaculacularsammy/pseuds/spectaculacularsammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few weeks ago, you cut your hand. Sam stitched you up, but was ridiculously gentle with you, to the point that only chaste kisses were exchanged and nothing more.</p><p>After everything has healed, Sam brings you down to the infirmary to remove the stitches. Sure, your hand is fine, but over the last few weeks, you've developed this <i>ache</i>. </p><p>Thankfully, your favorite doctor is in, and he's got the cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dr. Winchester Is In

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for hiddenwritingsintheworld's July writing prompt: Sam's 50 Kinks. I chose role playing.
> 
> This has not been beta'd. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> The gif belongs to artemiskitsune (tumblr)
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: [HERE](http://spectaculacular-sammy.tumblr.com/)

A few weeks ago, you sliced open the palm of your hand, and Sam stitched you up. While it healed, he was ridiculously gentle with you – to the point of only giving you chaste kisses and _that’s all_. He also made extra sure that the wound didn’t get infected, or that you didn’t get the stitches wet when you took a shower.

Now that the cut on your hand has healed to Sam’s satisfaction, he brings you down to the bunker’s infirmary and carefully removes the stitches.

Being the shit that you most certainly are, you hum the theme song to _Doctor Sexy_ and make a sly joke about being supportive of Sam’s _pro-bono_ activities.

He chuckles at you and groans that you’ve been around Dean for too long while he removes the last stitch. When Sam's done, he disinfects the scar one more time, then puts on some antibiotic ointment, and sends you on your way with a kiss and a pat on your ass.

However, instead of leaving the infirmary, you lean against the door frame and watch Sam start to clean up the mess on the stainless steel tray next to the exam table. “All doctors know that they’re supposed to give the _good_ patients suckers after their appointments.”

As Sam tosses the last gauze wrapper in the trash can, he knows exactly what you were doing. This may be the first time he’s had you in the infirmary because you were hurt, but it isn’t the first time that he’s ever brought you here.

Sam holds a pretty deep appreciation for the doctor/patient role playing scenario. Something about getting to take care of you and fuck you all at the same time. He’s never analyzed it much, because Sam would role play sexy roofers laying shingles if that’s what you wanted, but there’s something about the doctor/patient scenario that really does it for him.

He’s known he’s _maybe_ been just _a little_ over-protective with you over the last few weeks, but as much as you want him to fuck you up against the white, tiled wall of the infirmary, right now Sam wants it a million times more.

Your hand is healed – he just examined it for twenty minutes longer than he probably needed to – so he decides to give into what both you and he have been craving.

Sam points to the empty glass jar that sits on the counter – it probably held cotton balls back in the day, but it works. “I’m afraid I’m all out of suckers for today.”

You teasingly shrug. “That’s too bad, doctor. I _really_ like _your_ suckers.”

Just barely stopping himself from groaning at the fact that you called him, ‘doctor,’ he tells you, “Well, I promise after your follow-up appointment, I’ll have something for you to suck on.”

Thinking that you’re going to get a couple more days of helicopter-mom-Sam, you roll your eyes at him and start to walk out of the infirmary. You make it ten steps, and your phone starts to ring in your pocket.

It’s Sam.

“You’re such a tease,” you answer your phone, forgoing any sort of proper salutation.

Sam chuckles, then clears his throat. “This is Dr. Winchester’s office just calling to tell you that we had a cancellation today. If you can come back in about fifteen minutes, the doctor will see you.”

“That’s kind of late notice,” you tease. “I’ll see if I can make it.”

“Very good,” Sam answers in a professional tone. “I hope to see you then.” Then, he ends the call.

With your heart excitedly pounding in your chest, you plop down on the vintage sofa in the hallway and wait.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, Sam opens the door to the infirmary and steps out into the hallway, wearing a white lab coat and a stethoscope around his neck.

       

Throughout the _many_ times that you and Sam have been in the infirmary doing things that go against every _single_ line in the Hippocratic Oath, he’s _never_ worn a lab coat. In fact, things typically don’t get past you calling Sam ‘doctor’ a couple of times and your ass sitting on the soft, green exam table, but this time, you _just know_ it’s going to be different.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Sam tells you in that same professional tone he used on the phone, then holds his hand out toward the door. “C’mon in.”

After you follow Sam back into the infirmary, he motions for you to hop up on the exam table. Once you do, he takes a seat on the short rolling chair and flips through a few pieces of paper on a clipboard.

“So, I see you cut your hand, but that it’s healed sufficiently.”

“Yes.”

Sam looks up at you. “Most people consider it polite to call medical professionals by their proper title.”

“Yes, of course, doctor. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, doctor.”

“Good.” Sam keeps looking at the papers on the clipboard. “So, I’ve taken the liberty to fill in most of the personal information in your patient file, but if you could fill out the rest, that would be very helpful.”

“Of course, doctor.”

Sam hands you the clipboard and a pen, and you look at the papers.

_Name: Little Girl_

_Age: ___

_Height: shorter than Sam_

_Weight: perfect_

_Relationship status: Sam’s._

_Sexually active: very_

_What services do you hope to receive at this doctor’s visit?_

You write in: _your cock, doctor._

After you hand Sam back the clipboard, he looks at what you’ve written and nods his head with a serious look on his face. “And why is it that you require this sort of service today, little girl? Doesn’t the man referred to in your patient file give that to you _every chance_ that he can?”

“Typically, yes, doctor,” you answer. “But since I cut my hand, he’s been… _withholding_.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitches for a second. He clears his throat, then looks up at you. “You don’t think that’s because you very seriously cut your hand, and he didn’t want you to tear any stitches?”

The cut was _hardly_ ‘very serious,’ but you reply, “Yes, doctor, but ever since then, I seem to have developed this dull and achy feeling.”

“And you think my cock will fix that?” Sam asks in a serious but very gravelly tone.

That tone makes you instantly start to drip in your panties. “Yes, doctor.”

Using his feet to move the rolling chair, Sam wheels his way over toward the exam table and stops when he’s in front of you. “I want you to use your hand and show me where ths dull and achy feeling is at.”

Slowly, you spread your legs in front of Sam, lean back a little, and slide your hand down between your thighs, cupping your pussy through your pants.

Watching you, Sam reaches his hand up, puts it over yours, and moves your fingers, so that you’re rubbing yourself. “And over the past couple of weeks, the ache hasn’t gone away when you’ve touched yourself?”

You stop your hand and try to pull it out from between your legs, but Sam holds it still. “I _haven’t_ touched myself, doctor.”

“How come?”

“It’s not allowed, doctor.”

“I see.” Sam grins at you; he knows you haven’t.

Letting your hand go, Sam reaches down between your ankles and opens the drawer in the bottom of the exam table. There are a couple of hospital gowns inside, but because they’re ancient – even if they weren’t, he doesn’t want you to wear one – he closes the drawer. “To know the cause of this ache, I’ll have to take a look at you. Unfortunately, I don’t have any gowns for you in here. Would you like me to find you something else to wear?”

“No, doctor. I’m sure you’ll conduct yourself professionally.”

Sam pushes his wheeled chair back from the exam table, and he holds his hand out to help you down. “I always do.”

As you take off your shoes, socks, and start removing your clothes, you can see that the lab coat that Sam’s found isn’t buttoned anymore. The hem rests around his hips, giving you a perfect view of the bulge in his jeans.

It’s been weeks since you’ve held Sam’s cock in your hands, tasted it velvety and slick on your tongue, or felt it stretch your pussy. You groan softly at the sight, feeling yourself dampen even more.

After you work quickly to remove the rest of your clothes, Sam stands up from his short chair, takes your hips in his hands, and sits you back down on the exam table. The backrest is propped up a little bit, so he has you lean back on the soft, cushioned surface and takes your ankles in his hands, putting them on the edge of the table. “Why don’t you show me where the ache is again?”

You bring your hand back down between your spread thighs. “It’s right _here_ , doctor.”

Seeing how wet you are, Sam swallows another groan, but tells you, “I think I know what’s wrong, little girl. I bet it aches really bad, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, doctor. _Really_ bad.”

“Why don’t you touch yourself and see if that helps.”

Reaching down to your opening, you gather some of your slick and slide up to your clit, circling it wetly.

Both you and Sam groan.

After a minute of just watching you, Sam takes your other hand in his, brings it down to your pussy and slides two of your fingers inside of you. “Try that for a little bit.”

With Sam's hand leading the way, you fuck yourself with two fingers and rub your clit. Only holding your wrist, Sam continues to watch while lightly dragging his fingers up and down the bulge in his jeans. When he can tell you’re close to coming, he takes your hands away and sucks your fingers clean. “Did that help, little girl?”

“No, doctor,” you whine, feeling your empty and needy pussy throb. “It just made it worse.”  

Stroking his hands up and down the outsides of your thighs, Sam sympathetically tells you, “Well, that’s not good, is it? Should I try something else?”

“Yes, doctor,” you breathe and push your thighs together, missing the friction and stimulation.

Taking everything away, Sam eases them back apart. “Keep these _wide_ open.”

After you answer that you will, he walks around the table, so that he’s standing behind your head. You look up at him, watch him do something behind the table, then you go from sitting propped up, to flat on your back, then even further back until your mouth is perfectly level with Sam’s cock.

You didn’t know that the table did that.

“Doubles as a chiropractor table,” Sam tells you, knowing exactly what you’re thinking.   

With your face right in front of the bulge in Sam’s jeans, you sigh, knowing _exactly_ why he adjusted the table the way he has. “Very convenient, doctor.”

“ _Very_ ,” he agrees.

As Sam opens his belt and works open the button and zipper, he tells you, “At our last visit, you mentioned you _really_ liked suckers. I still don’t have any, but I did promise you something to suck on. Do you think sucking on my cock will help?”

As if Sam just realized what he said, you watch the corners of his mouth turn up. Yours do too, but you still answer, “I’m _very_ willing to try anything at this point, doctor.”

Grinning down at you, Sam huskily whispers, “I bet you are, little girl.” He pushes his jeans and boxer-briefs down, kicks them and his boots and socks aside, sighing when his cock springs free, but before he angles it into your mouth, he asks, “Do you want me to touch you, or would you rather do it yourself?”

With your mouth watering and your pussy dripping, you breathe, “You.”

Sam clears his throat.

“You do it, doctor, _please_.”

Wanting to watch your hot mouth blow him, Sam holds the hem of his shirt under his jaw and tucks the sides of his white lab coat back behind his elbows. Using his thumb to push his cock down into your waiting mouth, he groans when you eagerly seal your lips around what you can reach and lathe your tongue over the crown.

Also enjoying the fact that your hand is healed and he is able to touch you again, Sam groans when you start to suck him harder. He can tell you want more, so he slowly starts to shallowly roll his hips against your face, while stroking his hands up and down your neck and shoulders.

As you’re able to take even more of him, Sam slides his fingers up to your breasts, then stops to cup them in his hands. He chuckles when you whine, but then hears and feels you moan around him as he starts to roll and lightly pull on your nipples.

You quickly catch on that Sam’s only touching you as far as he can reach. Only a few inches of his cock are in your mouth, so you reach up with your hands, grab onto his hips and try to pull him closer to you.

“I see my little patient is eager, today,” Sam groans, but gives you what you want. At the same time that he eases more of himself into your mouth, he brings his hand down to your pussy.

Feeling the stretch of Sam’s fingers, you groan around his cock the second he pushes two fingers inside of you, sobbing when he slowly crooks his fingertips against your g-spot.

“I can tell this is where it aches, isn’t it, little girl? You’re _so_ wet.”

You try to answer him, but Sam’s moving his fingers _agonizingly_ slow. You open your mouth wider to take more of him. Just as you do, he speeds up his fingers, doing everything _exactly_ right.

It only takes a minute, and you feel close to coming. Everything aches in the sweetest way, but with his cock in your mouth you’re unable to tell him what you want, or ask if you’re even allowed to come like this. You start to close your knees, but then Sam’s fingers are gone. Before you can whine at the loss, there’s a quick and slick swat on the inside of your thigh.

“I said, _leave them open_ , little girl.”

You gasp at the contact of Sam’s hand, but do as he said, arching up off the exam table when he pushes his fingers back inside of your and resumes his quick pace against your g-spot. The ache inside of you multiplies, making your head spin, making your body sing and shake from trying not to come, but wanting to so badly.

“That’s the place, isn’t it?” Sam uses his other hand to stroke the inside of your shaking thigh. He can feel and tell that you want to come, so he backs off a little bit, shushing you when you whine around his length. Wanting more of those soft vibrations around the tip of his cock, he slowly fucks your mouth a little bit more, groaning at how soft and wet your mouth is, then pulls out.

Watching his slit leak pre-come and drip down into your waiting mouth, Sam slows his hand down even more. He doesn’t give you enough to find that edge again, but makes you beg and sob all those sounds that he absolutely loves to hear.

Not changing the speed of his fingers, Sam replaces your mouth on his cock with his other hand, and slowly starts to stroke himself in time with how he’s fucking you with his fingers. As he does, the head of his cock randomly touches your bottom lip, and his head falls back with a deep groan when your mouth latches onto the tip.

“Please,” you moan around Sam’s cock, swirling your tongue around the head and into the slit. You swallow down the wetness, then suck as much of his dick as you can back into your mouth, garbling the rest of your plea.

“You really thinking coming like this is going to help?” Sam chokes out through a groan.

He hears you whine and beg some more, so he speeds up his hand. If you come only on his fingers, it’s only going to make you even more needy, and it’s been so long since Sam’s seen you like that.

Sure enough, you start to mindlessly beg some more, moaning out ‘doctor,’ ‘Sam,’ and ‘please,’ in rapid succession as best you can with his cock in your mouth. Sam savors your sounds, how you’re soaking his hand, and trying to swallow him whole.  

As much as he loves your mouth, loves the things that you can do with it, and how your pussy gushes when his cock stretches your throat, making you gagging for more, Sam wants to feel the wet heat of your pussy. He wants it wrapped tight and perfect around him, so he takes his dick away, holds it just out of your mouth’s reach and grits out, “Come.”

You cry out through your orgasm, rocking up against Sam’s hand. He works you through countless amounts of mind-blowing aftershocks, stopping only when you start to thrash from over-sensitivity on the exam table. The next thing you know, Sam’s back on that little wheeled chair, licking between your thighs.

“Shit,” Sam groans, tasting you on his tongue. Just barely taking his mouth away, he starts to ask, “Did that help with-,” but he’s _so done_ with the whole twenty-questions-is-this-where-your-pussy-aches routine. “Fuck it.”

Sam aches too. He hasn’t come since you cut your hand, either. It’s been _weeks_.

Covering your clit with his mouth, he flicks with his tongue and sucks it between his lips. When you scream and jerk on the exam table, he wraps his arms around your thighs, spreading them even further apart, and pulling you tighter to his face.  

You’re a mess, sobbing and moaning as Sam licks you sloppy, wet, and fast. He does every _single_ thing that he knows drives you past the point of insanity, groaning out filthy things like, “Fuck, I missed this perfectly fucking pussy. Gonna make you come so goddamn hard, little girl.”

Wanting exactly that, you start gasping Sam’s name. Your hands tangle in his hair, trying to pull him tighter to you, because you want to come again and pushing him away at the same time, because he hasn’t told you that you can.

Sam feels it and knows what you want. He reaches up, takes your wrists in his hands, quickly gritting out, “Do it. Come for me,” then pushes his face back into your pussy.

Like always, your body just obeys. Your hips automatically thrust up against Sam’s face, trying to push his tongue further inside of you. He lets you move how you want, kicks the wheeled chair out of the way, and chases your pussy with his mouth, swallowing down every drop that you leak on his tongue.

After licking and tongue-fucking you through your orgasm, Sam puts your hips back down on the table. Taking just a second, he practically rips off the rest of his clothes, including the white lab coat and stethoscope, and pushes his aching and leaking cock inside of you, shouting when he’s bottomed out.

Before, Sam pictured himself standing at the end of the exam table, pulling you into his thrusts. He was going to tell you how it was ‘doctor’s orders’ and ‘the best medicine’ to go slow and stretch your needy pussy well with his thick and solid cock and that he'd 'fuck the ache away'. However, as Sam feels you wrapped tight and slick around him just the way he loves, he _needs_ to touch and feel you in his hands. He pushes you up the table, and climbs up behind you.

Finally having Sam exactly where you’ve wanted him for weeks now, you instantly cling to him and wrap your legs around his narrow waist. When his plush mouth is on yours, you kiss him just as hard and fast as he kisses you, your teeth clicking against his as you moan in to his mouth.

Wanting to get even closer to you, Sam slides his arms under the backs of your shoulders, holding his weight on his knees and elbows as he takes your face in his hands and thrusts into you harder.

Rocking back into him and meeting him in the middle, your hips crash into Sam’s, and you grab onto tight handfuls of Sam’s back. Feeling your nails dig into his skin, Sam does the thing with his hips that drives you insane, and you do the same thing with yours, making you sob into Sam’s mouth the same time he shouts into yours.

“Not yet, little girl,” he gasps, recognizing your sounds and pushing into you even harder. “Wait for me. God. _Fuck_! Wait for me.”

Unable to answer, you simply hold tighter to Sam, and will yourself not to come until he says.

For both you and Sam, everything is sweaty, slick, and hot. His firm chest sticks to yours as his groin slaps against your pussy, making filthy sounds bounce off the white tiled walls of the infirmary.

As he moves, every single muscle in Sam’s body is tautly pulled, rippling against you as he moves, A second later, he relaxes, a tell-tale sign that he’s _right_ _fucking_ _there_.

You wait for it, hope and pray – silently and audibly – for him to tell you to come with him, knowing the words are right on the tip of your tongue. Instead, Sam slows down, just barely rocking into you.

Wanting it hard and fast again, you whine, but Sam keeps his slow pace. Even in your foggy mind, you know exactly what he’s doing.

Often times, Sam will tell you to take it as long you can, and with his slow thrusts, you know that’s what he’s doing.

Mindless babbling and pleas fall from your mouth in random sputters as your body shakes with want and need. Sam licks your sounds away, giving you throaty groans right back, but not giving you what you want. Then, he starts to shake right along with you.

A few agonizing minutes later, he raggedly whispers, “You wanna come, little girl?”

"Yes, Sam! God, yes, please, let me come!"

Moving a little bit faster, Sam huskily groans against your lips, "Say it. Call me 'doctor' one more time, and I'll make you come so fucking hard."

"Oh, fuck," you moan. "Please, doctor. Please let me come. Please, Dr. Winchester,  _please!_ "

Something rattles and shakes next to the exam table when Sam finds his quick pace again, then that same something hits the floor at the exact second you and he both come, screaming and shouting.

Sam empties weeks’ worth of hot and thick come into your pussy, making his thrusts even more fluid until they slow down to practically nothing. Through the whole thing, Sam keeps his mouth against yours. Sometimes just brushing his swollen lips against yours, sometimes dragging them through his teeth, or giving them sucks and licks while you moan and gasp for air. When the two of you can breathe again, it’s against each other’s faces, sharing the same used oxygen and making each other dizzy and everything more intense.

Once that intensity starts to fade, and Sam can see straight, he wraps his arms around you, gets up from the exam table, and walks over to one of the cots in the corner of the infirmary. The sheets are still rumpled from the last time he had you in here, but he knows for sure that the ancient-looking bed will hold his weight when he collapses down on it.

It does.

After nestling your limp body and his shaky one under the white sheets, Sam ignores the mess between himself and you. The exam table isn't the only thing in the infirmary that doubles as chiropractor equipment - there's a soaking tub just on the other side of the room, and Sam plans to take full advantage of it just as soon a he can get himself and you up off the cot. For now, he lays with you in his arms and stays inside your body until he softens and naturally slips out of you, making both you and he groan at the last exiting slide.

Since this wasn’t planned, Sam doesn’t have anything to offer you except for himself. He keeps you close and wipes your hair away from your cheeks and the sweat from your forehead that he’s sure is his own. He'll wash it away properly, later.

As you catch your breath, Sam lightly traces the scar on the inside of your hand with his thumb. He knows he’s going to have to clean it again and apply a fresh coat of antibiotic ointment over everything and where he took the stitches out, but other than that, the scar looks fine.

He kisses the fading red-purple mark and then your silver ring, then tucks your hand between his body and yours.  

After asking you if you need anything, and you shake your head ‘no,’ Sam closes his eyes and breathes a satisfied sigh, thinking about how he’s going to have to hang on to that white lab coat. He likes when you have _aches_ that only he can fix, and Sam Winchester always likes to be prepared.


End file.
